Lent

I'm not one to give things up for Lent.  It always seemed artificial to me.  I'm not speaking to anyone else's experience, just to my own.  But for some reason this year is different.  I'm using Lent as an opportunity to set things down that I value to see what happens, to see what God will do.  In the past year I've commented a number of times about how I can't understand how anyone can be bored; there are too many interesting, worthwhile, and fun things to do.  I'm curious about what it is that I'm not now doing which will arise in the space that Lent has pruned.  We shall see.

To see what God will do this Lent
I'm doing blog abandonment.  

Birth Control

Birth control is always cheap
In many and listable ways:

1. Brush your teeth but once a month
2. Or walk around and Tase.
3. Bad mouth kittens, push old widows
4. Pay with only nickels.
5. Don't have sex or get all frisky
6. Stuff your pants with pickles.

It really isn't very hard

And it's all up to you!

Any other sobbing story

Simply isn't true.

Guck

When the slush falls down
All the romance is gone from
Precipitation

Honeydew

She says, "I've got a tub for you
To take downstairs, you see."
I said, "Hmm-mm" and then I sat
And wrote this poem for thee.
In not too long I'll get on up
And do some "honeydew."
But for just a little bit
I'd rather write for you.

(and off I go...)

Fragments Undone

The world was fallen long ago,
Continues thus today.
Sinners do what sinners do
And so the fragments stay.
To tell as much, with broken words,
Might strike a man as wise.
Yet it is but a half-truth told
For Jesus did arise.
The world is broken, yea it is,
As once his body hung.
But now with eyes of faith we know
That new life has begun.

Fragments

Fragments - busted up pieces of what used to be something...
Some "thing."  But the thing is undone, broken.
It seems that the world is fragments these days.
A civic sense that held us together,
Is sick, just plain sick.
Who can trust the other?  Those others are vile, truly vile.
One mustn't listen to them, at all costs no.
And religion, well, that was supposed to be an internal matter
Now wasn't it?  But now it busts out in all the wrong places
Indignantly right and yet doing damage to itself.
Or it plays the complaisant fool, doing damage to itself.
Or it is altogether absent, doing damage to everyone else.
Whether by omission or commission, the whole thing is busted up in fragments.
And where is a person to turn amidst these heaps of shards?
It's easy to cut oneself.  It's easy to wail.  It's easy to stomp...
And bust everything up just a bit more.
Is there nothing that holds it together anymore?
Or are we condemned to live so separately, as fragments
So unlovely, so unkempt, so broken...


(Was it always so frail?  So irreparably compromised?)
Seems not, but.

History of the Day

Saint Valentine was quite a guy,
A martyr back in ancient Rome.
He sold his cards and made a mint
And hid it in a catacomb.
But then the greedy government
Took all his cash and sent him "home."

Scatology

When baby says, "Ah poo"
He means to say, "I'm pooping."
We anxiously await
The day when he'll be stooping
All by himself, above the bowl.
That is our happy baby goal.

Pace

Spazzes from another age
Moved slower than today,
Sniffed the roses, took a breath,
Didn't get all frayed.
Nowadays, of course, they fly
And scene cuts into scene.
Life as flashing strobe effect.
Spazzes gone obscene.

Bluster

Arise, my heart, and with a will
Sing songs to beat the night.
Say bollocks to the raving moon
And eulogize the light.
Timid hems and pansy haws
Will nothing put to flight,
But ego mixed with blustering
Will surely win the fight!

Ppbbbbb.

I'm tired as a tree stump
Fatigued like army green.
I'd like to lie like lumber lies
As still as e'er's been seen.

Another Brief Thought

Wife said, "diaper"
I said, "crap."

This A.M.

Heavy frost in sunlight gleam
Trees adorned
The world: pristine

An Unpleasant Irony

Planned Parenthood fights like crazy to stay alive.

Komen vs. Planned Parenthood

When a bully comes to your doorstep
And yells that you're hateful and mean,
Give them a jab in the tonsils
And offer a punch in their spleen.
If insults and threats keep on coming
It's best not to cower and cringe,
But give 'em what for
Cause they chose the war.
Too bad if some others will whinge.

The Early Days of Fatherhood (Redux)

Dear Lord, I need.
That sums it up.
From breakfast time
To way past sup.
My eyelids doze.
My muscles fail.
All thanks to dearest
Abigail.